The Calling to S-6-S
by JacksonMW
Summary: In the darkest reaches of space, a sinister creature has begun collecting the greatest warriors of the universe. Aboard his space station, these sixteen warriors will fight against each other in order to escape Station S-6-S alive. Will Randal "Fifteen" Roth, one of the few survivors of Project Sleeper, emerge victorious? Or will he perish aboard the desolate space station?
1. Chapter 1

**This is my OC that will be featured in the Original Character Tournament The Calling. Each new chapter will feature my OC pitted against one of the 15 other warriors who have been summoned to Station S-6-S. The winner of the tournament will have their story become the official cannon of The Calling. At the time of this posting, there are only 2 OC slots left in the competition. Check out Rapidfyrez's page ( u/4544649/Rapidfyrez) for more information.**

**Side note: Randal "Fifteen" Roth is from the same universe as my Gargoyles fan fiction "Memories". He will be featured in the sequel.**

The Calling

Prologue

The setting sun looks magnificent when cast over a sprawling city scape. Brilliant colors of orange and yellow seem to be amplified by the tall glass towers that cover the sliver of island that is known as Manhattan. It is one of the many things I love about living in New York City. Many people call it the city of dreams, and it is easy to see why those people do so. With the right amount of money and line of work, you can easily be living the high life in the Big Apple.

Of course, getting to own a penthouse that rests a top the SoHo Grand Hotel isn't easy. I had to do a lot of odd jobs, some more dirtier than others, in order to get where I am today. Now I am retired at the old age of 41. Many of my friends look at me and ask, "Randal Roth, how did you become so damn successful?". I always reply with one of the best cop outs ever invented, "Luck.".

With a glass of scotch on the rocks in my right hand and my left hand resting on the stone railing of my private balcony, I keep my eyes locked on the setting sun, watching it slowly drift behind the enormous sky scrapers that cover Manhattan. My eyes, in particular, are glowing green. Most people who first meet me usually ask about my glowing green eyes and the numerous amounts of scars that cover my face, arms, hell, the scars cover nearly my entire body. I've never answered that question once, leaving them to wallow in their mind about why I have these glowing eyes and plentiful amount of scars.

I take a sip of my scotch and turn my gaze a little over to the right, looking directly at the Eyrie Building. This towering sky scrapper rivals the Twin Towers in its sheer size and construction, matching both of those iconic towers in height. However, the defining feature of the Eyrie Building is that, on its crown, is an ancient Scottish castle. The castle, known officially as Castle Wyvern, was a previously hidden castle that was built sometime in the 900s. The owner of the Eyrie Building, the multi billionaire David Xanatos, has me to thank for finding that rare gem. One of the VP's of Xanatos Enterprises approached me with the job offering that sky rocketed me into my current life style. The man, who still remains unnamed to this day, asked me to find Castle Wyvern. Very little details were given on the castles current location, though he did say it was somewhere in Western Scotland.

With only a general area to go one, I began my search for a 1,000 year old castle. After nearly 3 months of searching Western Scotland, I stumbled upon an old seaside town that looked like something straight out of a child's fairytale. The town was complete with wooden houses and hay roofs. It even had an old black smiths shop and a tavern were I spent several days fraternizing with the ladies of the town. After my slight break, I began asking around the town about Castle Wyvern. The first answer that I got led me straight to Wyvern Hill, the resting place of this ancient castle.

Castle Wyvern was completely over grown with moss, trees, and wildlife. Other than the castle looking like a jungle, the only interesting aspect about it were the six stone gargoyles that rested on pedestals a top the highest tower of the castle. I immediately called up the VP, who informed me not to entire the castle. He also told me that my money had been transferred to my bank account. I was at first confused, seeing as how we had never established a price for me successfully finding the castle, so I immediately called up my Swiss banker and asked him to check the balance of my Swedish account. He promptly informed me that one million dollars had been transferred to my account

I remember that I nearly had a heart attack upon hearing this. The one million dollars combined with the money from my numerous other bank accounts had given me a first class ticket into the Upper class. Not even caring about what happened to the castle, I sent the coordinates of it to the VP and high tailed it out of Scotland and back to the good ole United States of America.

_Those were the days_, I thought as the sun finished its descent behind the skyline.

Gulping down the rest of my scotch, I burped loudly and walked across my balcony and through the set of glass doors that connected me to the outside world. I tended to not linger in the darkness of New York, even when a top my Penthouse. There was a fanatical group that call themselves the Quarrymen running around these days. The Quarrymen claim to be protecting the public from the once though mythical creatures that have recently become urban reality. These creatures are known as Gargoyles, like the stone statues of the same name. The Gargoyles are nothing like their stone statue counterparts. They are living, breathing creatures that apparently protect the city of New York. Personally, I really don't give a care about these whack jobs as long as they stay off my balcony.

The empty scotch glass was still in my hand as I walked across my clean wooden floors, passing by a splendiferous marble counter top that currently held my many bottles of booze. I set the glass down on the counter top lightly, proceeding to rub my hands over my fuzzy head. In my line of work, I find it easier to maintain a shaved head rather than have long flowing hair like many guys today. It makes it easier to aim down a sniper's scope or to engage in a fist fight without having to worry about the long hair getting in my face. I do, however, take great pride in my mustache. It's taken me several years to grow this Hulk Hogan inspired 'stache. Even though it might be tinted grey from age, I still hold onto it with pride.

Before walking over to my couch, I run my left hand over my right shoulder, lightly touching the tattoo that has always been there. This tattoo isn't something that is as cheesy as a dragon or a naked girl. This tattoo is just a simple number 15 in black ink; no more and no less.

I've thought about removing the tattoo for years now, but I always end up keeping it around. It serves as a reminder for how I came to be the man I am now. The tattoo serves as a reminder that I am a genetic monster born and raised in a test tube. It also serves as a reminder for who made me this way: The Illuminati Society. I've never told any of my friends this, but that secret society ever crack pot conspiracy theorist makes up stories about is real, and they are the reason why I was created.

Way back in 1977, me and twenty others were manufactured by a now long dead company that used to be known as Genesis Engineering. Those damned scientists injected us with serums designed to enhance every part about us. I don't know about the others, but I was giving enhanced strength, making me stronger than the average bear, enhanced thinking ability, making me smarter than Stephen Hawking, and the ability to increase my reflexes to the point of being able to dodge bullets.

While it may seem cool to pretty much be a walking superhero, it has come with its fair share of prices. Though I have the ability to dodge bullets, if I use it for too long, I could literally burn myself out, leaving me as a shriveled up mass that was once human. I also seem to have another personality. This guy, who I've come to call Randy, seems to love coming out whenever I get too angry, too scared, or even too excited. He also seems to have a knack for coming up with the most sadistic shit I've ever experienced. I've come to loath Randy. That little bastard brings out the worst in me.

In truth though, one of those Genesis Engineering scientists actually helped me escape from the labyrinth that became my mind once I found out I was a sleeper agent. Dr. Sarah Roth, the lovely woman who created me and delivered me from evil. Even though she turned me into a sleeper agent to be used by the Illuminati or anyone who utters my trigger phrase, I still love her. Not like a true love sort of way, but like the sort of love a mother and her son experience. Dr. Sarah helped me by giving me the opportunity to kill my handler, a now dead man known as Xavier Weisington.

I decided I had spent enough time reminiscing about past events. That's all they were, past experiences that helped shape me into the man I am today. I pulled down my sleeve, covering up my tattoo and began to shuffle across the wooden floor towards my plush green couch. Nearly inches away from lying on my fluffy throne and taking a nap, I heard a sound I had not expected to hear. The sound was a tapping, much like what you would expect to hear when a finger hits glass. I immediately reached onto my belt and whipped out the Glock 17 that I have been carrying with me since 1977 and aimed it at the wall of glass windows that gave me a 180 degree view of New York City.

To my surprise, I didn't see anyone or anything standing on the other side of the glass, just the all too familiar night scape of New York. With an eyebrow raised and my eyes beginning to glow brighter, I slowly turned away from the glass wall and back towards my TV. However, I was not met with my large plasma screen TV which rested above my lovely fireplace. Instead, I found metal man looking at my TV with curiosity.

My eyes glowing ten times as brighter as before, I aimed my firearm directly at this metal man and said, "Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?"

The metal man perked up his head and turned towards me, revealing a face completely void of any eye holes, ears, nose, or even a mouth. All the metal man had on his face was the silver chrome plating that made up his entire body. His body was very slender, giving his arms a noodle like appearance as they rested at his side. He looked a lot like Gort from The Day the Earth Stood Still, but he lacked the visor and the death rays.

"Oh, pardon my intrusion Mr. Roth," the metal man said in a cheerful British tone that sounded a lot like C-3PO. "It's just that you were taking too long to open the glass door from your balcony."

Still aiming at this metal man, I responded, "That tapping was only a few seconds long, how could I have reached the glass doors in time?"

"Ah yes, I forgot about the limitations of humans," the metal man said cheerfully. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Messenger and I come bringing great tidings from my Master."

I watched as the metal man walked around my couch and in front of the glass wall of windows. I followed him with both my eyes and gun, keeping both trained directly on him.

"What the hell do you want," I asked sharply, placing my hand lightly on the gun's trigger.

"My Master has sent me here to invite you to attend a gathering of the greatest warriors this universe has to offer," Messenger said, still maintaining his calm tone.

"Wait wait, universe," I repeated.

"Yes, universe," Messenger said cheerfully. "My Master is gathering sixteen warriors to Station S-6-S to compete in a contest."

Essentially, from what I could gather from Messenger, was that he was some sort of alien robot sent to invite me to a contest on some placed called S-6-S. This sounded like something straight out of a cheesy sci-fi flick or a bad story.

Despite my skeptical looks and every instinct in my body telling me to shoot the Messenger, I held off and asked, "Why me?"

"Well, my Master has deemed you fit to compete in his contest," Messenger explained. "He has examined your entire life up to our meeting, taking note of your work as a man for hire and your killing ability. He is also interested in your origins and your sleeper agent programming."

_What the- how the- how does this Master know about that_, I thought to myself as I slightly applied more pressure to the trigger.

"You better start making more sense real quick pal," I warned. "I'm starting to feel a sneeze coming on and I might accidentally pull the trigger if I do."

Messenger chuckled a bit and said, "Your human weapons won't have any effect on me Mr. Roth."

Annoyed by Messengers wise cracks and cryptic language, I pulled the trigger on my Glock, sending a 9mm Hollow Point round straight into Messengers head. It's kinda ironic really, me shooting the messenger.

The bullet hit Messenger straight in the center of his featureless face, leaving a rather large hole in the chrome plating. Rearing his head back, Messenger remained in place as he moved his head back into position, staring straight at me with the a face that was missing the hole I had saw seconds ago. Eyes wider than they've been in a while, I fired off three more shots, each one hitting Messenger in various places on his body. In only a few seconds though, any sign of a gunshot wound was repaired, leaving the body completely un harmed. I looked Messenger up and down, noticing the four bullets that rested at his feet.

"See," he taunted, "I told you."

Bordering on enraged, I fired the rest of the magazine into Messenger, watching as each bullet was pushed out of his body and each hole was repaired. The slide of the Glock locked into place, signifying that I was out of ammunition.

"Are you quite done," Messenger said, slightly annoyed by the bullets.

I smirked at Messenger and said, "Fine. You have my full attention until I feel like shoving you out of that window."

"Excellent," Messenger said happily, completely un phased by the threat. "Now then, my Master is prepared to offer you a tremendous award if you manage to win his contest."

"What sort of reward," I asked.

"Well, seeing as how you are already wealthy enough, my Master has made you this one offer. If you win the contest, my Master will in turn give you the one thing you have always desired: a real life. One completely unaltered, one where you weren't created in a laboratory, one where you are a normal human."

_Is this true_, I thought to myself as I holstered my Glock. _Can this Master erase my entire life and make me into a normal human? _

Even though I have this laid back life, getting her wasn't easy. I've had to hurt a lot of people in order to survive in this world. My past is a constant weight on my shoulder. Each day I try to tell myself that I'm not a genetic monster, that I'm a normal forty year old man who might be hitting his mid life crisis soon. But I'm only fooling myself. Any day now the Illuminati could locate me and reactivate me. They could bust down my door and bring me back into the hellish world of waking up and not realizing what you did while under someone else's control.

"This all sounds too good to be true," I said skeptically.

"Even so, my Master has that ability to give you what you want," Messenger replied. "All you have to do is come with me to Station S-6-S."

Part of me really wanted to go with Messenger and compete in this contest. Even the small hope of winning this prize was enough to convince me. However, each prize and ability comes with a cost. I know this all too well to be fooled by this sales pitch.

"What's the catch," I said in a low tone.

"Pardon me," Messenger asked.

"You know what I said," I stated. "A great gift like that doesn't come without a catch Messenger. Even if your Master is some all powerful being, everyone has their price. Now answer me, what's the catch to this offer."

"Well," Messenger began, "Aside from coming to compete in this contest, you would have to make it out alive in order to win this prize."

I was proud of myself for sniffing out the fine print to this deal. But I was still shocked when I heard him say "make it out alive".

"What do you mean 'alive'," I asked.

"Well, you will be pitted against fifteen other warriors from across time and space, each one trying to win their own prize. You will fight in a one on one battle to the death with each of these warriors until one emerges as the victor."

"Are you kidding me," I exclaimed. "You want me to compete in a gladiator style match against other warriors who might very well be aliens?! What are you insane?!"

"I don't think I was programmed to be insane Mr. Roth," Messenger replied.

Shaking my head and turning away from Messenger, I said, "Well I'm not about to go get myself killed for some other dudes pleasure. Go tell your Master I said no."

"I'm afraid I wasn't programmed to take no for an answer, Mr. Roth," Messenger said coldly. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like you to accept my offer Mr. Roth."

At that moment, my entire world turned to black. That damn robot had uttered my trigger phrase, forcing me to follow his orders. From my subconscious, I screamed in defiance as I watched myself take the hand of Messenger and disappear in a flash of light.


	2. Round 1

Round 1

Have I ever mentioned that I hate robots? I've never met one in person until Messenger came to my home, but the whole idea of them is very unsettling. Beings programmed to act like something, to follow every order they are given; it's all too familiar to me. That's probably why I hate the idea of them so much. I'm pretty much a robot, a creature designed to follow orders. Of course, I have a little bit more free will than a robot, seeing as I have some human characteristics to me. But if anyone utters that damn sentence "If it wouldn't be too much trouble", I'm a slave to their every command. I'm not even me when they speak it. Randy takes over my mind, replacing everyone of my thoughts with his own twisted ones. So I pretty much hate myself. And even though I said no to joining this competition, part of me is happy that I'm probably at it right now, even though I'm still unconscious.

I slowly opened my eyes. I half expected to be met with my soft silk bed sheets rubbing against my cheek. Instead, I felt the coarse and cold sensation of a metal floor. Groaning loudly, I sat up from my horizontal position and sat on the floor. My head throbbed rather violently as I looked around the small dark room I had awoke in.

"I don't think I'm in New York anymore," I said aloud, my tired voice echoing off the black metal walls.

The room had no lights in it, leaving me shrouded in darkness. A normal human would probably be sitting here for a few hours, waiting for their eyes to adjust to this insane amount of darkness. But I'm far from normal. The green glow from my eyes actually helped illuminate a great deal of my surroundings. They functioned much like a cars basic headlights while driving down a dark country road, giving me a sort of limited 180 degree view around me.

To my dismay, this room had no sign of any doors, only solid metal walls colored a jet black. The floor was covered in dirt and what appeared to be dried blood. The dried blood was also smeared across the walls and even the ceiling. Looking down at my body, I found myself met not with my bath robe and striped pajama bottoms, but instead a brand new leather trench coat. The coat was buttoned up to my neck and had a sort of newly polished shine to it. My pants were now black cargo jeans that had a faded look to them. They had a black belt wrapped around my waist. Attached to the belt was my holster, which held my Glock 17 and an extra magazine. The ends of the cargo pants were tucked over a pair of heavy, black steel toed boots with similarly colored laces.

_Definitely not my usual attire_, I thought to myself as I slowly sat up and moved over to the wall that was directly in front of me.

This metal felt weird. It seemed to bend slightly as I slowly dragged my hand across its surface, giving it an almost skin like feel. I leaned in closer to it and could barely make out millions of tiny little hexagons, each one connected to each other. Moving my hand over its surface, I observed that it actually did bend at my touch. When I poked the metal, it created a small divot on its surface. However, without even letting a second go by after I removed my hand, the metal bounced back to its original form.

"Admiring my station I see," a raspy voice said.

The voice sounded like it was coming from behind me, so I whipped out my Glock and spun around. I was met with nothing except the same vacant room.

"Who's there," I said wearily, moving away from the wall and into the center of the room.

"It doesn't matter who I am," the raspy voice said. "All that matters is who you are."

Thinking back to my encounter with Messenger, remembering that he served some sort of Master, I asked, "Are you Messengers Master?"

The raspy voice erupted in maniacal laughter, much like what a Saturday morning cartoon villain would do.

"I go by many names child," the raspy voice said through its laughter, "But you can call me the Caretaker."

I continued to scan the room, looking for any sort of speaker or small opening through which this Caretaker was broadcasting his voice. However, the only thing I noticed was that the metal was pulsating slightly as the Caretaker spoke. It seemed to be that the entire room itself was functioning as one large speaker with the aid of this foreign metal.

"Okay Caretaker, why the hell did you bring to wherever I am," I asked, feeling slightly awkward for talking to just a voice.

"Messenger brought you a board my Station S-6-S so you can compete in my tournament," the Caretaker said, the walls pulsating at a constant speed. "Human's are such terrible listeners."

"I listened to everything your Messenger had to say and I kindly rejected his offer," I growled, still surveying the room. "But he somehow got a hold of my trigger phrase and forced me to come here."

The Caretaker erupted in laughter once more and said, "I told him your trigger phrase so that he could bring you here regardless of what you said."

"Well then how did you know," I asked, switching part of my focus to searching for some way out of this room.

"I know many thing's Randal Roth," the Caretaker said coldly. "I know things about you that you've never told anyone. I know everything about your pathetic little life."

Smirking, I said, "Well I'm very flattered that you've taken such interest in me Caretaker, but what does my life have anything to do with this competition?"

On the verge of another laughing fit, the Caretaker said, "There were plenty of other worthy candidates from your time period; David Xanatos, Jon Castaway, Elisa Maza, anyone of those Gargoyles. But you Mr. Roth, you were something different. And made you so different you may ask? Well, to put it simply, you were a human who was bred for control."

I began to feel very annoyed at the Caretaker. He was treading too far into my personal life, making me feel very uncomfortable and a little violated.

"Unlike the fifteen other competitors I have gathered, you essentially lack free will," the Caretaker explained. "These other competitors can easily defy me, granted they would suffer a fate worse than death. But you, you were made to be controlled. That's why I choose you. Mr. Roth. I choose you because you have no chance of being able to defy me."

Finishing his little rant, the Caretaker burst into another fit of laughter. The walls around the room convulsed violently, causing the floors to shake as well. I nearly lost my balanced as the Caretaker's laughter echoed throughout the room.

"Fuck you," I growled as his laughter subsided. I could feel Randy's personality seeping into my own as my anger grew. "I swear to god, when I win this competition, I'm going to hunt you down and make sure you die a slow and painful death!"

Chuckling, the Caretaker said, "I'm counting on it my boy."

The room suddenly stopped convulsing, settling down to its normal shape. An eerie quietness settled over the dark room, causing me to feel uneasy once more. I placed my hand on the trigger of my Glock as I scanned the room, waiting for something to happen. As I stood still, I noticed that everything seemed to be shrinking. Confused, I looked down and saw one of the strangest things I've seen so far: the floor had changed from a solid metal substance into a quicksand like liquid.

Much like quicksand, the more I struggled, the faster gravity pulled me down. Not struggling in a situation like this is very hard though, considering I was sinking into an unknown substance and would possible die. The headline for the movie "Alien" was quite accurate, cause in space, no one could hear me screaming my head off as I sunk into the floor. My mouth caught it's last breath of fresh air as my head became completely submerged in the once metal floor.

What seemed to be an eternity actually only lasted a few seconds. I struggled in the substance as my body continued to be pulled downwards; I tried to move my arms in a swimming motion, but it was no use. As I felt my lungs being slowly drained of oxygen, I felt my legs become less harder to move. It seemed that they had hit some sort of air pocket.

This supposed air pocket was enough motivation to cause me to speed up my decent. I moved my arms in a swimming motion, helping me push myself down further into the air pocket. Moving my head so I was looking down in the substance, I saw a light poking through the liquid. With only a few more seconds of oxygen left in my lungs, I pushed one last time until I felt myself fall out of the substance and land straight on my ass.

Squinting my eyes under the blinding light, I groaned as I sat up once more. Whatever the hell happened back there had dropped me into a whole other area of this space station. I looked up at what was now the ceiling and caught a glimpse of the liquid metal substance transforming back into its normal smooth surface.

_Well that was fun_, I thought as I sat up, rubbing my butt.

The sudden influx of light that bombarded my eyes began to subside, allowing me to un squint them and better examine my surroundings. The quicksand like floor had dumped me into a very large corridor. I stand at about six feet and five inches, so I'm usually able to touch a ceiling with ease. This corridors ceiling was at least ten feet off the ground. It was also made out of the same metallic material that the room was made out of, leading me to assume the entire station was constructed from this metal.

Thankfully, the corridor wasn't as dark as the room from which I had come from. The ceiling had several light sources, each one spaced evenly from each other at about six feet. Most of the lights seemed to flicker, some doing it more than others. This gave the corridor an eerie feeling, much like a haunted house would.

Along with being tall, the corridor was very wide. The two edges of the corridor seemed to be almost a few yards apart from each other, giving an extreme amount of room for me to move around in. Looking down the corridor, I noticed faint outlines that were spaced along the walls with no sense of order. The outlines seemed to just be slapped onto the walls. I assumed that these were outlines for doors, so I decided to walk up to one.

Within a few inches, the wall seemed to fold into itself, opening up a very dark room holding who knows what. I quickly backed away from the pseudo door, watching the tiny little hexagons fold back into place, forming a solid piece of metal.

_I hope all of those rooms aren't like that_, I thought to myself.

The inclusion of rooms in this long corridor, which I assumed wrapped around the entire station, gave me some hope that there would be some goodies in said rooms. I'm not one who usually kids myself; I know when I have the possibility of being severely outmatched. Even with my enhanced abilities, I still only had a Glock 17 loaded with Full Metal Jacket rounds of 9x19mm Parabellum rounds. Logic would dictate that the Caretaker would leave behind some items that would aid his competitors, at least that's what I hoped he would do.

Not wanting to waste any more time sitting around, I chose to head to my right and began to walk down the very large corridor, keeping an eye out for the next door. I walked at a slow pace, trying to conserve my strength in case I met up with anyone or anything. As I walked, I took notice of how awful this places condition was. Despite being made out of a fancy metal, this corridor was just a piece of garbage. Almost every inch of the corridor was covered in dents, each one ranging from small ones to ones that looked like they were from explosions. Some parts of the ceiling had very large holes in them, which let very large power coils dangle openly. A few of the power coils that I examined were still sparking with electricity, which could make them useful in a scrap.

As I walked, I remembered that the Caretaker said there would be fifteen other competitors in this competition. This made me wonder if they were all in this large corridor as well, looking for whomever they would fight. I didn't even know who I would fight, and I assumed that none of the other competitors did either. The Caretaker probably knew though, and it wouldn't surprise me if he had orchestrated this competition so that we would meet up with whomever we have to fight.

I had passed by several of the doors due to my deep train of thought. I was so deep in thought that I failed to actually here the footsteps that were coming up from behind me. My enhanced senses gave me a few advantages in the sight and hearing areas of my brain, so it was very rare that someone had gotten the drop on me. But it has happened before, and this was one of those rare occasions.

"Excuse me sir," I heard a voice say from behind me.

Acting on instinct, I whipped out my Glock and spun around, point it straight into the head of another human, causing him to raise his hands above his head.

This other human only seemed to be at the age of seventeen. His height led me to this conclusion, seeing that he seemed to stand at about five feet and nine inches, which was about eight inches shorter than me. I actually had to aim my gun a little bit down in order to have it pressed up against his forehead. His hair was a jet black color that had a bang covering what would be his left eye if I was looking at him. Along with the black hair, this boy had deep blue eyes that seemed to resemble the color of an ocean.

His attire was a lot more casual, unlike my all black one. He wore a green t-shirt with a circular neck hole. The t-shirt was partially concealed by a plain white track jacket which was zipped up halfway. A top his head was a grey Stetson hat, much like what Indiana Jones wore but with a smaller brim, with a white ribbon wrapped around the hat that complemented his overall attire very nicely. His pants were a type of grey denim jeans with a black belt wrapped through the loops. Attached to the belt were two holsters that looked to be holding revolvers. The bottom of the jeans were pulled over black heeled boots that resembled that of a cowboys. The cowboy styled boots had a silver trim that wrapped around their stitching.

"Who the hell are you," I growled, placing my finger on the trigger ever so lightly.

I could see that the boy was nervous with a gun pressed to his forehead. Clearing his throat, the boy said, "Could you please remove your firearm from my forehead? It's making me feel very uncomfortable."

I glanced down at his revolvers, nodding for him to remove them from his holster. Even if this kid wasn't my opponent, I wasn't about to let my guard down when he was still armed.

Catching my drift, the boy cleared his throat once again and said, "Oh I see. You want me to remove my weapons from my person. Well, just let me reach down and grab them for you."

Moving very slowly, the boy reached down to his holsters and pulled out his weapons. Holding them lightly in his hand, the boy handed them over to me. I reached out with my free hand and grabbed them, realizing that these weren't any sort of revolver. Granted these weapons had the curved grips of an old styled revolver, but they looked like something straight out of a science fiction film. The revolvers had the same shape of an old black powder revolver from the 1800's. The cylinder of the revolvers had several small vents that emitted a faint blue glow. The barrel of the revolvers had the same hexagon shape of its 1800 counterpart, put one of the sides of the barrel had a blue coil, which was about a centimeter in width, running in and out of the metal.

"What type of gun is this," I asked as I slightly lowered my own weapon to examine the boys strange weapons

"It's a Ray Gun," the boy said, feeling slightly less intimidated. "Have you never seen one of them before?"

Puzzled and intrigued by this new piece of hardware, I said, "Well, Xanatos Enterprises makes some sort of particle beam weaponry, but I've always used the good ole brass and lead bullets over the fancy shit."

"Xanatos whom," he asked.

Astonished, I exclaimed, "How could you not have heard of Xanatos Enterprises! They're one of the biggest multinational corporations on Earth. "

"Well, I don't believe I'm from your Earth," the boy said calmly.

_Oh yeah, I might meet up with people from whole different universes_, I thought, remembering back to my conversation with Messenger about who would be competing in this competition. That also led me to believe that this kid might not even be human.

"Are you a true human," I asked, deciding to see if he was or wasn't

"Well," the boy said, "Not exactly."

Raising my Glock back up to his forehead, I watched as the boy reached over to a digital watch he wore on his left hand. The boy rotated the watch in a counterclockwise motion, clicking it over two settings. I watched as the boy's human appearance faded away like some sort of holographic image. Instead of the normal human build that I had seen a few seconds ago, I was now starring into the face of a fucking humanoid dinosaur.

This dinosaur like creature still stood at the same height I had measured before, but it might've gained a few centimeters due to its digitigrade legs. Instead of the grey jeans he wore before, this creature now had a large black loincloth that covered his personal area. The loincloth was wide enough to wrap around his leather belt that had a few leather pouches attached to it. It's width allowed it to cover a few inches of his upper thighs, but not so much that it could be considered a skirt. The dinosaurs chest was covered in a solid steel breastplate that had two leather straps connecting it to a leather back plate. His head still had a humanoid shape to it, but the hair and eye colors had changed. The hair was now a steely blue that was slightly longer than his human forms hair. The eyes also appeared to be a lot more reptilian, complete with the slit for a pupil and an emerald green color. On his forearms, the dinosaur wore solid metal gauntlets that reached halfway up to his elbows. His fingers were also had changed into very sharp looking talons.

As I examined his new form, I noticed a spiked tail swishing behind him. His skin had also changed from a normal white coloring to a dark crimson with tiger stripe like black markings on his body. He also had a more muscular build, but it wasn't body builder style. It was more like mine, muscles combined with a slender physique.

"What the hell are you," I said, aiming my gun at the dinosaur and backing away a few steps.

"Please, don't be alarmed by my new form," the dinosaur said in an elegant tone. "The human form you had just seen was a hologram I use when I'm off of Vivosaur Island. Let me introduce myself, I'm Ienzo Velocio, a proud member of the Dinaurian race."

"I'm Randal Roth," I said wearily, still shocked by Ienzo's new form. "And what the hell is a Dinaurian? You look a lot like a dinosaur to me."

"Well, I am a dinosaur in a way," Ienzo explained. "But that's beside the point. I come from probably a different Earth than you were Humans compete in fossil battles as a sort of sport."

"What the hell are fossil battles," I said, slightly lowering my weapon.

"Fossil battles are a sort of competition were humans on my Earth use ancient dinosaurs that they brought back to life from fossils to battle each other," Ienzo explained. "It's a famous sport on my Earth."

"This is too bizarre," I said, completely lowering my own weapon.

"What about you, what is your Earth like," Ienzo asked, showing a great deal of curiosity.

Holstering my weapon, I gave Ienzo his ray guns back before I said, "Well, I come from New York city, where I own a beautiful private penthouse a top the SoHo Grand Hotel. We don't have anything like your Fossil Battles, but we still have plenty of sports. I was enjoying a carefree life in the upper class before that son of a bitch known as the Caretaker brought me here against my will."

"Ah yes, I know all too well about your current situation," Ienzo said. "I too was ripped away from my life to be brought to this hellish space station. Did you leave any loved ones behind?"

"Aside from my bottle of boozes and my TV, not really," I said, laughing slightly.

Ienzo sighed and said, "Well you're lucky. I was ripped away from my beloved Duna. I'd do anything to get back to her."

Seeing a potential way of getting out of here, I said, "You know, me and you could team up in this competition."

"What do you mean," Ienzo asked.

"Well, I don't think you're my opponent," I reasoned. "Nothing has led me to believe that. So what if me and you search wherever we are for our opponents and tag team them, increasing our chances of survival so that we both have a better chance of getting home."

Ienzo pondered my suggestion for a few seconds before speaking up and saying, "I agree. A team up would be very beneficial for our current situation. But what if we are suppose to fight each other?"

Smiling, I said, "We simply refuse to fight. I mean come on, what's the worst that this Caretaker can do?"

"Oh, he can do a lot of things," a voice said from behind Ienzo.

Ienzo and I both turned towards the voice to see Messenger standing a few feet away from us. His slender metal body was standing in a rigid posture, much like what a butler would while waiting on his employer.

"Who are you," Ienzo asked.

"I am Messenger, Ienzo Velocio," Messenger said with a cheerful tone. "I serve my Master, the Caretaker, and he is very displeased with your inability to fight each other."

Staring coldly at Messenger, I said, "If Ienzo is who I have to fight, then I won't do it."

"Oh come now Mr. Roth, you know you can't refuse," Messenger said calmly and coldly.

"What does he mean by that Randal," Ienzo asked, turning his head slightly towards me.

Still staring coldly at Messenger, I growled, "Don't listen to that cybernetic piece of trash. We don't have to fight each other if we don't want to."

Messenger let out a small chuckle before saying, "You humans are so insubordinate."

Suddenly, Messenger's body literally melted into the floor. Ienzo and I both stared in shock as we frantically looked around the corridor for Messenger. However, I again failed to detect someone sneaking up behind me. I felt a cold metal arm wrap around my neck and hold my head in place. Gasping, I craned my neck and saw Messenger standing behind me, hugging me tightly too his chest.

Ienzo turned towards me and raised his ray guns to Ienzo, "Let him go robot. I don't want to shoot you. In fact, I'd rather not shoot anyone."

"Well that's too bad," Messenger said coldly. "Because in a few moments, you might have to."

Trying to get out of Messengers grip, I felt his metal face rub up against my cheek as he leaned in close to my ear.

"I would be pleased if you would KILL Ienzo Velocio," he whispered softly.

* * *

_Finally, time to have some fun_, I thought to myself.

I felt Messengers release me from his grip, allowing me to stand facing Ienzo. I stared into the Dinaurian's eyes, smiling.

"Randal, are you okay," Ienzo asked.

"Randal isn't here anymore Ienzo," I laughed. "You can call me Randy now. And can you guess what Randy is going to do to you?"

Ienzo remained silent. I could tell he was trying to make sense of what was going on.

"Well," I laughed. "Good ole Randy is going to gut you like a pig and hang your mangle corpse out to dry! Doesn't that just sound FUN?!"

Ienzo sensed that I wasn't Randal anymore. He raised his two ray guns, pointing them straight at my chest and said, "I don't want to kill you Randal. Please don't make me do this."

"I'm afraid that won't work out Ienzo," I chuckled, "because I want to kill you."

Not giving the Dinaurian the first strike, I pulled out my Glock and quickly fired off several rounds straight at his chest. I underestimated his speed though, for he was able to quickly move away from my bullets path and rush towards me. Ienzo fired off several shots from his ray gun as he rushed me. The blazing hot teal lasers barely missed me, for his aim was skewed due to his running. It was obvious he didn't want to fight; the lasers were aimed at my legs. He aimed to incapacitate me.

With Ienzo approaching fast, I holstered my Glock and prepared for hand to hand combat. Ienzo did the same with his two ray guns and outstretched his hands, aiming the talons directly at me. Almost directly on top of me, Ienzo leapt at me, swiping his right hand down on me. I quickly moved out of the way of his strike, taking hold of his right forearm. I quickly swung my right leg around, keeping the boot's steel toe pointed at the Dinaurian. I managed to land a hit on his lower rib cage, knocking the wind out of Ienzo. However, the blow to the rib cage didn't deter the Dinaurian. Using his free hand, Ienzo curled it into a fist and landed a punch square in my right cheek. He then used his spiked tail to slash my face, adding a fresh scar to my already scar riddled face.

The punch combined with the facial laceration caused me to release my grip on Ienzo. He took advantage of my momentary vulnerability and wrapped his hands around my neck. Using most of his strength, Ienzo shoved me a few feet backwards into the wall, adding another dent in the metallic substance.

Squeezing my neck, hoping to knock me out due to lack of air, Ienzo hissed, "Snap out of it Randal! I would rather not have to kill you! But if you continue to attack me, I won't hesitate to knock you down."

Feeling my airway slowly being crushed, I let out a battle cry and shoved Ienzo off my, knocking him into the opposite wall. Deciding that this fight had gone on long enough, I focused all of my brain power to my muscles, increasing their work drive. My vision entered into a slow motion mode as I sprinted towards Ienzo, who had just gotten back onto his feet. In real time however, I knew I was moving faster than any organic eye could track, giving my moving figure a sort of blur. I could tell that Ienzo knew this as well, for the shock on his face was very apparent. He had over calculated my abilities.

Still seeing in slow motion, I slammed my fist into Ienzo's face, knocking him a few feet to my right and straight onto the floor. I drew back the concentration from my muscles, causing my vision and muscle drive to return to normal. I watched as Ienzo slumped on to the floor. His nose appeared to be broken from the impact of the punch, causing a steady stream of brightly colored blood to pour from his nose and drip onto the metal floor.

_Stop Randy! Just leave him_, I heard Randal call from the back of my mind. I shut him out though. That man didn't have any control over me now.

Ienzo groaned and sat up from the floor, glaring at me as I smiled once again.

"If I were you, I'd just give up now," I laughed as I wiped some blood away from my bleeding nose.

"I still have another trick up my sleeve," Ienzo growled as he clicked his watch in a clockwise motion over one.

The Dinaurian went through another transformation, one that was very altering to his appearance. Ienzo shifted from his bipedal Dinaurian form and transformed into a fully fledged dinosaur. His dinosaur form resembled his humanoid form with the same colored skin and patterns along with spikes that were the same steely blue. However, he now resembled a Dracovenator dinosaur, complete with jagged teeth and very sharp claws.

_Ienzo's_ new form hissed at me, showing off his impressive row of teeth. He then stamped his feet twice on the metal floor before charging at me, his mouth outstretched in a roar

* * *

_I can't let Randy kill him_, I exclaimed to myself as I sat in my own subconscious, watching.

I watched from a first person perspective as Randy stared down the charging dinosaur, slowly moving our hand down to the holstered Glock. I felt as he put all of his concentration back into our muscles, activating our telekinetic powers. I knew very well what he planned to do. Randy wanted to flank Ienzo at the last second and shoot him straight in the base of his Spinal column. I had no idea what this would do to Ienzo. It could either kill him or paralyze him from the waist down. I didn't even know if the FMJ round would penetrate his thick dinosaur hide, but I couldn't sit back and let this happen.

Using as much will power that I could muster, I strained my mental form to enter into control of at least a very few motor functions in hopes of altering the outcome of our decisions. Just as Randy activated our telekinetic abilities, causing the time around us to slow down, I managed to gain a few seconds of control over our motor functions. This few seconds managed to save Ienzo's life, for instead of shooting him, I managed to make us slam the Glock down onto Ienzo's dinosaur head. The blow was hard enough to knock Ienzo out cold and possible give him a concussion.

I watched as his dinosaur form slumped onto the ground, tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth as he slowly closed his eyes.

Too my relief, this was apparently enough for the Caretaker to be satisfied, for Messenger said, "I would be pleased if you would fall asleep."

Immediately, I felt our mind falling into a deep sleep. Randy's personality slipped out of control of our body, allowing me to regain control. As I drifted off into sleep, I took one last glance at Ienzo's unconscious body, hoping he would find a way off Station S-6-S.

_I'm sorry for what I did_, I thought as my mind slowly faded into blackness. _Maybe we'll see each other...again..so I..can...give...a...proper...apology._

**Thar she blows! Round 1 of the OCT hosted by Rapidfyrez. I had a lot of fun writing about Antex's _Fossil Fighters Character_. And Antex, I'm sorry for beating your dude up so badly! But I left what happens to him open so that you can have fun with it if you submit a spectator entry.**

**Happy Reading :D**


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